


Soldier In Need

by Identiaetslos



Series: Threvellan Collection [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Soldier And A Mage, F/F, Fluff, Halamshiral, Smut, Smutty Literature, Winter Palace Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 00:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Identiaetslos/pseuds/Identiaetslos
Summary: After dancing with Florianne, Wyn goes in search of Threnn needing the right touch to calm her nerves.





	Soldier In Need

Wyn shuddered as she left the dance floor. The smell Florianne festered like the hideous stench of floral-scented carrion on her uniform. A few of the courtiers glanced in her direction letting her know that curse words uttered in her undulating Dalish tongue weren’t lost to their ears: Another fire to put out.

No...she didn’t care. Let the hens cluck all they wanted about how the Inquisitor hated that vile woman whose fingers had so deliberately slithered across her body like tentacles trying to find an easy hold on her body. 

Threnn would have hated it if she had seen Wyn dancing with the Grand Duchess, and Wyn hated herself for allowing it to happen. The good of the people, Josephine justified. She’d been right. Without understanding the plot behind Celene’s rumored assassination attempt, acting without education would be detrimental to not only the Inquisition, but the elves. Not just here, but in all Southern Thedas.

How Briala put up with this, Wyn couldn’t fathom. Easy. She was used to it; grown up in this mess, thus exposed to it far more than Wyn was. Not that Wyn didn’t see it in the eyes of every elf that Lavellan took in from an alienage, or when she would pass through the slums of Wycome or Ostwick or here.

She finally understood fully and she didn’t want to. She had to...it was her job: The task that Andraste herself assigned if she were to actually invest something in the legend. She felt sick again. If she were here, Threnn would have something meaningful to say; something blunt that would put it all into perspective, give her a mission to start with.

Scanning the crowd, there was no sign of that orange head she loved so much and the would-be scowling face that would certainly lift her spirits. And those arms. How she longed to replace Florianne’s memory with the heavy press of Fereldan fingers, attached to warrior’s arms, with that warrior’s gaze.

For a moment, Wyn felt so starved for her beloved, she thought she might cry.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine waved to catch her attention, smile lighting her face. “We should take you dancing more often. Was that Grand Duchess Florianne you were dancing with?”

Leliana and Cullen had joined her, the latter trying his best to look excited, and the former studying more than she was celebrating.

“Yes,” Wyn spat. Florianne’s name tore open a wound and she averted an emotional gaze from the lot of them. “Have any of you seen Sergeant Threnn?”

“I think she’s out guarding the horses,” Leliana replied. Her voice was careful. She understood, and to her credit, put up no fight.

“Can one of you please find her for me?”

“Inquisitor, now is not a good time or place for you to be seen with her,” Josephine protested.

Feeling her emotions bubble to the surface, Wyn cut the Ambassador a sharper look than she wanted. “I don’t care, Josie, I need to see my wi--” she stopped herself and exhaled the chaos from inside her heart and mind. None of them deserved this. They all had been doing their best, and aside from Leliana, there was no way they could possibly understand what she needed. “Nevermind, I’ll do it.”

Wyn tore herself from her advisers before they could respond and whisked through the crowd, keeping her eyes to the carpet to avoid unwanted questions and conversation. Undoubtedly, she wore her emotions plainly on her face, which she’d pay for later. Suddenly, Wyn became envious of the masks that others wore and resisted the temptation to tear the one from Vivienne’s face: She had nothing to hide anyway.

Pushing through the great doors to the vestibule, Wyn spotted Threnn coming up the stairs. She wore her green and orange Inquisition uniform, sword on her belt, but instead of the orange pumpkin hat, she wore a shiny Infantry helm.

“Thank the Creators,” Wyn muttered and hurried to Threnn, who looked up startled.

“Inquisi--”

Before Threnn had a chance to finish Wyn grabbed the Sergeant by the hand and pulled her through a closet door and into a long relieved kiss. Her lips felt good, her hands felt good; like water on a parched desert and washing away the poison left by Florianne.

Her lips were like honey, the sweetness biting on her tastebuds like delicious candy. She smelled like honey and looked so handsome in this uniform, and would look even better out of it. Or...with her pants around her ankles with a melted look on her face while she fucked Wyn back to reality.

Wyn’s body throbbed for more and she began to unbutton her tunic.

Threnn broke. “My love...” she breathed. “Someone will see.” She was out of breath and worry knit her gorgeous freckles and nutmeg brow.

“I don’t care,” Wyn breathed, removing her sash and pulling it open enough so that Threnn had access to her breasts which threatened to swell from their underclothes. “I need you. I need strength to go back out there and get this bloody thing over with, so I can go back to you being the only person allowed to touch me.”

Threnn didn’t let go but jaw tightened as she did when she was upset. She said nothing and a look passed through those emerald eyes of rageful resignation and she, too, looked like she might cry for a moment.

Wyn reached up and touched Threnn’s face, rubbing a gentle thumb over a scar. “I love you.”

Threnn’s face softened and she kissed her beloved’s fingertips. “I love you.”

In her Sergeant’s hands she was, palms about her hips; first gloves, then skin, causing a contented sigh from Wyn’s lips as she backed herself up against a table not unlike the one Threnn used to keep, at the far end of the room. Whatever this room was used for prior to tonight, it had a new purpose tonight.

Threnn's sword clattered to the floor, likely heard by any curious eavesdroppers. The door was closed, and there was only one way in. All of this so deliciously forbidden, scandalous.

Wyn's hurried hands had Threnn's armor off, her breeches undone. “Inquisitor...” Threnn moaned quietly between kisses and lifted her up.

Wyn loved everything about this. Being under Threnn’s sturdy hands was where she loved to be. She burned at her center and pulled Threnn closer until she was between her legs where she ached the most. She let out an uncontrolled sigh as Threnn’s lips grazed her neck, and a louder moan as her hands soothed the want in her breasts in possessive, slow kneads.

The Inquisitor surrendered, arching her back to her lover, her lips and hands leaving electric rivulets as she made her way lower.

“Threnn...” Wyn begged, presenting her chest to her. She’d soaked through her small clothes, and the scent of sex seemed to only inspire her beloved. Mouth soothed and suckled and hands slid lower, leaving no spot of flesh unappreciated and pushed her clothes from her hips.

Cold air stoked the flames of being naked before her lover. Through foggy eyes and flushed lips Wyn stared down at the redhaired infantry officer, her emerald eyes ablaze with a lascivious grin as she sank to one knee.

“You’re getting everywhere, M’Lady,” Threnn teased and took Wyn into her mouth with a long, slow lick meant to savor as much as pleasure.

Wyn cried out and nearly lost her grasp. She poured into Threnn’s mouth as she devoured in long, hungry kisses. A year having sex with the former Quartermaster, and it never ceased to be amazing. Not that having it with her would have mattered to Wyn, but it did help that the woman she fancied the most was oh so good at this. And how beautiful she looked between her thighs, lusty look upon her pasted brow.

The battle with composure was lost and Wyn let herself go. She gave all herself to Threnn, a gift as much to her as Threnn gave herself to Wyn; a spell carried on breathless lips, lifted to the Gods themselves. Armor against the terrors ahead, which were more than the tarantulitic fingertips of a conniving noble. The room, the palace, all of Thedas gave way to the mysteries of beyond.

Wyn tumbled forth into the steady grasp of the infantry Sergeant, whose normally assured arms gave way. The wooden floor was cold and the air tingled across the Inquisitor’s exposed flesh. She came to and realized in a vague fog she was back in Halamshiral, and the soft pillow beneath her head was the heaving bosom of Sergeant Threnn.

She was still clothed but only in the physical sense, her eyes and smile were completely undressed, and her face glistened with the whispered prayer of before. Threnn offered an intoxicated giggle and accepted Wyn’s kiss with a wet mouth.

Threnn tasted like fire and Wyn couldn’t resist a deeper kiss to try and put it out.

“Inquisitor...we need you to get back to the party...” Threnn said in a rare, feathery voice.

Something felt unfinished in this moment. Threnn wore far too much clothing and it was one thing to be touched by Threnn, but this cloth against Wyn’s naked body didn’t feel right. She needed to feel her.

“This is the party...” Wyn breathed and kissed Threnn deeply once more.

The Sergeant didn’t object and shuddered under Wyn’s slender fingers as she unfastened the tie about her breeches and slipped her hand under. Threnn sultry flood and adjusted herself so that Wyn could push aside her underclothes with ease and find her amidst her thicket of red curls.

There wasn’t enough time to do this proper, but she couldn’t leave Threnn without appreciating the small bud of her flower.

Threnn’s eyes fluttered to the back of her head bit down on her lip to avoid a cry louder than Wyn could muster that would be surely heard by any prying ear at the door. She tilted her hips to Wyn. “Please,” she begged. “All of you...”

It was barely intelligible, which made it all the worse as Wyn plunged deep, giving all that her love requested, lamenting she had no more to give.

Threnn was like a tropical tide and bucked like the salted waves carried on salacious gusts. Harder and harder Wyn moved until Threnn had lost her words and gripped the legs of piece of furniture in a desperate attempt to keep herself from completely sliding into oblivion. It was for naught. Lust was an ally not a foe and the furniture could not save her, and instead she gripped Wyn with desperate fingers as she tumbled into the foggy realm that separated this world from that.

Wyn offered a sugary giggle and kissed Threnn’s damp neck.

Threnn panted a laugh in return and Wyn felt those sturdy hands in her hair.

Through a hazy gaze, the two of them looked at each other until Wyn couldn’t help a kiss upon the tip of Threnn’s crooked, broken nose.

The Sergeant’s tunic had been pushed up on her chest and her pants off her hips. Feeling as though not enough was done to satisfy her trusty hero, Wyn pushed herself down and placed a tender kiss on a freckle dotting the edge of her hip. She smelled of unfinished sex, which she promised for later with a look about her eyes.

“Oh no...” Threnn laughed and motioned for Wyn’s face to be near hers.

Wyn obeyed heartily. Anything her love wanted was hers.

“At this point, I worry about the amends you’ll have to make. I know you hate it, I hate it too, but for our sake, you have to be successful out there.”

There were those words Wyn longed to hear. She melted into Threnn’s doting hands as they brushed along her messed, platinum hair and pulled her into a damp kiss. “Yes, my love,” Wyn said, still drunk on Threnn’s touch.

“Just remember that I love you. None of it is real out there, except the part where you save all of Southern Thedas.”

“Oh is that all,” Wyn retorted. Her sarcasm was real and a bucket of ice water. She sat and collected herself as she pulled her clothes back on.

“Yes,” Threnn replied with the dry humor Wyn had come to love. She was already put together and standing as though she was either practiced or had prepared for this. Perhaps both. She offered her hand which Wyn eagerly took and brushed her hands again through Wyn’s hair, putting it back as close to where it was before. “You can do it. I believe in you…not just as the Herald of Andraste, but...as my wife, and the woman I know who can do anything even when we can’t be together.”

Wyn softened and felt tears as Threnn’s wisdom hit her soul. She straightened the sash around Threnn’s waist and kissed her lips once more. She still tasted like sex. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she said, pushing the door open and stepping back onto the battlefield.

“M’Lady,” the Sergeant bowed slightly, returning to her assumed form. “I’m glad that you brought this to my attention. I will see to it personally.”

As a woman of her station, Threnn avoided a passing servant carrying a tray of champagne, but Wyn did not, lifting her eyes to signal him to come over. Taking a pair of glasses, she handed one to Threnn.

Threnn suppressed a knowing smile and took it with a courteous acknowledgment of her superior. “Shall we drink to the festivities, Inquisitor?”

Wyn bowed slightly. “To Halamshiral and all it’s wonders.”

From nearby, the titter of a flock of hens caught Wyn’s attention. They looked in her direction and seemed to be admiring the soldier that the Inquisitor stood next to with curious, knowing gazes. How much they had heard and how much had reached the Empress’ ears, Wyn put out of her mind and urged Threnn to get herself to safety.

Threnn downed the glass and took her leave with a mumbled word and a struggle to not leave a lingering gaze as she disappeared back through the servants entrance and into the night, growing long and arduous. 

Nothing that Wyn couldn’t weather, she reminded herself, steeling herself behind the armor Threnn had given her and making her way back into the ballroom.


End file.
